Farewell, Fear Factor edition

Have I tried every Vietnamese dish? No. Have I tried every southern Vietnamese dish? No. Have I now tried one thing that probably trumps any other terrifying food I will ever have the opportunity to try in my life? Probably yes. I sampled embryonic duck eggs with grace and appreciation. Last night I faced something infinitely more daunting. But that story comes later.

Wednesday night was the last student English club. Turnout wasn't huge, but at eight-ish it was significantly more than the four who came last week. I learned how to fold paper into boats/bowls to hold rambutan and other snacks, and then we all sat and chatted and ate snacks and sang. I added one more Vietnamese song to my repertoire. I asked the three seniors present about their future plans, and they asked me about mine. One student told me that before I arrived, they expected me to be tall, pale, and blonde. When I arrived and they saw that we had similar skin and hair, they felt confident that we might be friends. I don't know what that says for US-Vietnam relations, but I guess it meant something good for me.

Thursday morning I had one more last visit to Trang's parents' house. It was the first time I wasn't there for some sort of event, and consequently it was a very relaxed visit, just me and them. If there is any goodbye dish I would want to have, it would be the goobdye bánh xèo that Trang's mom made. Ngon, ngon, ngon (3x delicious!), accompanied by Trang's favorite liqueur: Bailey's. This time I didn't cry on the road home; I guess I got all of my boohoos out the first time.

A more modest spread than what I usually see

Goodbye

In the afternoon, I participated in the college's closing conference for my term as a Fulbrighter. It was held in Vietnamese, but it was still moving. I made a presentation in English, and then made some closing remarks in Vietnamese. It was the first time I've had stage fright in a long time. When I started, everyone sort of giggled, and I wasn't sure whether I had said something wrong or whether they were just laughing because they were surprised to hear me speaking Vietnamese. Afterward, no one commented positively or negatively, but Trang told me that I did a good job (and she would tell me if I hadn't) and that people thought that the way I spoke Vietnamese was probably like the way they speak English. I got a mound of goodbye gifts that I haven't opened yet, and a certificate from the local government that is the highest honor one can receive and usually takes two years of consistent exemplary service to earn. I was also interviewed by a reporter for the local news.

Receiving my governmental certificate of achievement

Being interviewed

After that, there was another goodbye party. The party was festive but uneventful until I discovered that either banana rice wine is either much stronger than regular rice wine or my tolerance is shot, because I was quickly buzzed. Buzzed enough to feel inspired to toast Mr. Luan, my biggest source of frustration but most concerted effort for appreciation, for our mutual respect for each other's patience when facing communication struggles. After a plate of watercock, a plate of ruddy ground dove, a few hours, and several more shots, I met the biggest culinary challenge I have met in my life. I recall the time I went to Six Flags Arlington and faced down a ride called the Chameleon that had a loop and went forward and backwards, and I told myself that if I rode this one ride I would never fear a ride again. This dish was the Chameleon's equivalent. A dish of fish sauce, chilis, and duông dừa:  coconut beetle larvae. I have now eaten live coconut worms with bold terror and shots of banana seed rice wine. And I had four. And to be perfectly honest, other than the long time I spent watching them writhe in fish sauce while we all worked up the courage to eat them, the worst part was how much pepper was in the fish sauce, more so than the maggots themselves. You held it right behind the head, put the body in your mouth, and ripped the head off. People told me it was healthy protein, and that they are organic. Even after they'd been decapitated, the discarded heads kept moving in my bowl. 

About to eat one

Are you ready for this? Behold, the terror of the worms:

If you want more, watch the mandibles keep moving after I've eaten the bodies. Now that's a sendoff.

Famous on Friday

Friday's classes were an invigorating experience after Thursday's struggles. I had no desire to try to wring another lesson relevant to our current unit, Traditional and Modern, so I just did something else. I made a survey for students to use to interview their classmates. There were eighteen questions, and they had to find a different person who fit each question (e.g. someone who doesn't know how to swim, someone who has eaten pizza, etc.). We worked on structuring the different necessary questions: have you ever...?, do you...?, and are you...?, and then we went outside and let the surveying commence. The students took on the task with great enthusiasm, and I only had to remind them to use English a few times. Funnily enough, the hardest task was to find someone who wanted three children. One girl, in playful frustration, started running through the group shouting, "Do you want three children?" and everyone else shouted back, "No!"

When we got back inside I started to poll them, to find out which of their classmates fit each criteria. After a while of struggling to figure out what names were being shouted at me and how to spell them correctly, I decided to appoint a scribe to write down people's names on the board. Then I used this list to ask for the backstories from students who had broken a bone and students who had met a famous person. One of the students said that the famous person she has met was me. I smiled and replied that I think I'm only famous in Ben Tre. But it was a sweet moment. The students asked me if I had ever met a famous person. I guess I have, but no one who would be famous to them came to mind.

Violet arrived in the evening and we went out for milk tea with Thy and Nhu. After about an hour of hanging out and breaking the ice, the four of us went to the coconut festival. I was glad we were going with them, because unbeknownst to me there were three different locations. We tried to go to see the performances on the stage on the lake in the city center, but when we got close we discovered that they had closed off the street and weren't letting people in anymore. This was the first sign that this festival might be an even bigger deal than I had imagined. We headed to the outskirts of town to see the fair.

Not this way

This way!

Considering that up until about two weeks ago, no one had been able to tell me the dates of the festival, it was hard to imagine that this would really be a big deal. I imagined something along the lines of flower street during Tet -- lots of coconuts laid out on a closed-off street, and people insisting that it was magnificent -- plus that stage in the lake for performances. Well. Well, well, well. I was wrong. When we got to the fairgrounds I saw more people than I have ever seen at once in Ben Tre. It took about ten minutes just to park. The fair reminded me a lot of the livestock show and rodeo back home, except that it was about coconuts instead of cows. There was one big tent full of coconuts, coconut crafts, coconut products, coconut candy, free samples of coconut wine, and informative exhibits.

People waiting to get in

Inside the coconut tent

Me, Nhu, and Thy with a tiger made of coconut

Coconut candy girls

Coconut packing machine

Pyramid of coconut varieties, plus coconut flowers on top

Outside of the coconut tent there was a food court, where some of my students were working. There was another tent full of merchants selling everything from mattresses to pots and pans to electric fans (which provided a nice, breezy break from the heat). We passed a stage with people pretending to be statues and, naturally, a karaoke stage.

Cow mascot inviting people to try free samples of juice.
Our photo-op spared him from a horde of toddler boys
pommeling him in the udders.

Living statues

Musicians in rainbow sombreros

And now let me tell you about the most magical and memorable moment of the evening. Our wanderings led us to the main stage. We had passed it earlier and seen people competing in a blindfolded feed-your-partner-hot-dogs contest, but now someone was singing. I used my crowd navigating skills to bring us closer to the stage, and we had a great view of Nguyễn Hoàng Nam's  stellar moves and deep dimples. Violet, my students, and I were all rather smitten. He had clearly mastered the smoldering eyes required for a pop ballad and the pelvic wiggles necessary for an upbeat song. In addition to his vocal styling, his styling styling was of note. Not many people could accessorize with sheriff's badge, a single glove, a leather cuff, a wallet chain, and pirate boots and still look attractive. Here are a couple of his more popular music videos: 1, 2.

Just look at that stage presence!

Just look at those accessories!

For some reason, I wished I could go on stage and dance. (If you clicked on the video links you'll note that they're ballads, but he mostly performed upbeat songs at the concert.) I quickly dismissed that wish -- never gonna happen. But then I had a second thought. If it would happen anywhere, it would happen in Vietnam. Before his next song, Nam called out to the audience, asking for people who wanted to join him on stage (which I understood courtesy of my students' translations). Violet, fearless soul that she is, seized my hand and raised it high into the air. We, along with about four other people, were chosen.

On stage, no big deal

We got on stage and suddenly realized that from now on we would have no idea what was being said, or what we might be expected to do. Was it a contest? Were we supposed to copy his moves? Who knew. He started singing, and everyone seemed to be doing their own thing, and so we all just let loose and danced around on stage. Nam came over to dance with me. I had given my students my camera, but sadly they did not see fit to photograph my one-on-one time with him. Nevertheless, I assure you that it happened, and it was unforgettable. When the song ended, an MC came out to ask Violet and I if we were foreigners visiting the coconut festival. Despite the fact that this exchange occurred in English, we somehow ended up telling him that we were from Tra Vinh. All of us who went on stage received a gift for participating and got to shake hands with Nam before we left. We all received hanging clocks in boxes that looked deceitfully like pizza boxes, and for some reason I also received a six pack of bottled green tea soda. Off stage we reunited with my gleeful students and worked our way back through the crowd, who looked upon us with a mix of envy and admiration.

Part of me wished I had saved my Friday morning survey for next week. If I had, I would have a famous person that is actually famous to my students, and had a great story to go with it.

Visiting

Friday night I had a millipede that spent hours walking in circles around my desk chair. Saturday morning I set off for Tra Vinh. It takes two hours, the same time it takes to get to HCMC, even though it is probably about half of the distance. Luckily, it is also at least twice as interesting. I spend an hour on the public bus from Ben Tre to the ferry, then I spend 20 minutes crossing the river, and then it's a 40-minute motorbike ride to Tra Vinh's city center. On the bus, I saw a public school named after Che Guevara. I made me do a double take. Violet and Lam met me on her side of the river, and we had a fairly relaxing rest of the day. In the afternoon we met with some of Violet's co-workers for drinks and snacks. I tried Tra Vinh's Khmer specialty, bún nước lèo. It was good, but it didn't really inspire any excitement. More interesting were the fried sweet potato spring rolls that accompanied it. In the evening we did some shopping.

Tra Vinh city center

Bún nước lèo

It wasn't so much the activities that made it a notable weekend, it was the company. Even though getting out of our hometowns and being with friends feels like an escape from work, we can't escape talking about it. In theory, that bothers me, but in reality it is a good thing. These are the people who know exactly what my obstacles are, because they have the same ones. They can empathize like no one else can because we're all in the same boat.

I came back to Ben Tre on Sunday morning. I was planning on my usual set of modes of transportation, but when I got back to the Ben Tre side of the river it seemed like it would be a while before the next bus came. I sat down at a cafe next to the bus stop to wait. A man asked me if I was taking a xe om or the bus. I said that I was waiting for the bus. After waiting a while longer and realizing that I was more capable of conversation than I thought, I asked him if he was a driver. (I always feel uncomfortable asking people if they are xe om drivers.) He said he was a xe om driver. I was going to ask him if he knew when the next bus would pass, but instead I asked him if he could take me back to the college, since he seemed to be offering. He read the address and said that he knew where it was and he agreed to take me. I braced myself for an hour-long bumpy ride, but it ended up taking half as long. Near the end I had to give him directions, and did so successfully. When we arrived at the college I didn't have exact change and he didn't have change. Usually, if this is an issue, the driver goes around asking nearby businesses if they can break the bill. I don't know if this driver was just lazy or if it didn't occur to him that it would be challenging for me to take on this task, but he sat back while I started looking for change. The first woman had seen what had happened so I didn't have to say anything, but she didn't have change. Then I went to a shop across the street. I showed the woman my 200 and said I wanted a 100 and two 50s. She looked at me in total confusion. I said it again. She called her husband over. I said it again, again. Now the two of them were staring at me. I tried a different tactic. I said, "I have a xe om. I don't have ..." and showed them the 200 bill again. "Change!" they both cried out in unison. Success. And a good way to imprint a new word, đổi.

Remember Ngoc, Nhat, and Phu, the students I went out with on Thursday morning who were supposed to teach me some more Vietnamese dishes? I was supposed to meet them on Sunday morning but that got moved because I was in Tra Vinh. I was worried that we might have to cancel, but instead we agreed to meet at two pm on Sunday afternoon. Ngoc came to pick me up, and the 30-minute ride to Nhat's house was one of the most scenic rides I've ever had in the delta. Sunlight filtered through miles of coconut palm forests. When we got there I realized there would be no cooking. Instead, there would be eating. I was fed milk-coffee jello, vegetarian spring rolls, corn, xôi (sweet rice with coconut shavings) colored orange with gấc, mango, and persimmon. Could it be that the jello was the previously mentioned 'rice jelly'? It ended up being quite the gathering, and even though most of it took place in Vietnamese I felt very happy, included, and relaxed. I think it probably helped that we were all about the same age. 

A small feast

After we ate they asked if we could take pictures together. Boy, did we take pictures. I smiled for about three cameras and a couple of cell phones all at once, at least once with each person there and then with the group. Then they asked me if I wanted to try on an ao dai and take pictures. I didn't really want to but it was pretty clear that they really wanted me to, so I agreed. As if I needed a reminder that I was in Vietnam, I was suddenly being dressed by Nhat and trying on (aka sweating in) her mother's clothes. Unexpectedly, the ao dai fit (and was too big, actually!) and so I emerged for my photo shoot. Everyone wanted a photo with me again, and then they had me sit in the grass to take pictures of just me, proclaiming me Vietnam's Next Top Model. Once I got over the western-minded weirdness of it all, it was kind of fun. Getting fawned over for 30 minutes isn't so so bad. After that I escaped to change back into my clothes and we just sat in the grass and chatted. It was one of the most relaxed social outings I've had in Vietnam, and even though I had to leave after two hours, I would have been happy to stay longer. 

Coconuts and bananas

Mom + Vietnam: Corner of Heaven

Happy thanksgiving!

Originally, my mom and I were going to go on a river tour today. However, at the monthly schedule meeting, Trang decided that we should spend the morning at her parents' house and feast on her mother's bánh xèo. I had been there when I first arrived in Ben Tre, back when my camera wasn't working. A few days ago my mom asked me where was my favorite place in Vietnam, and it was the first thing that came to mind. So, I was more than happy with this change of plans.  

On the way there

We were a five-motorcycle caravan of women, and our first stop was an orchid farm just around the corner from the house. Trang had forgotten about its existence, though it is owned by her favorite cousin. Upon arrival I discovered that my battery was on its last legs, but thankfully it still had enough juice to get me through the whole morning, albeit with slightly more judicious camera use than usual.

A pot of one of these now brightens up my bathroom

I had a Georgia O'Keeffe moment

Naturally, I went looking for spiders, and delighted in my success.

Just around the bend was the muddy unpaved path to her parents' house. We were greeted by a big-screen viewing of my karaoke contest performance.

Cooking was already underway when we arrived, but my mom got to try her hand at making a bánh xèo. Oil, pork, and shrimp went into the wok first. Then the rice flour and coconut milk mixture, then the filling of soy sprouts and cassava. When the thin thin thin 'pancake' (literal translation of bánh) was ready, it was time to fold it over and slide it onto a plate.

This was just the first few of many plates that made their way to the table

 To eat it, we tore off pieces of piping hot bánh xèo, wrapped it in lettuces and herbs, and then dipped it in fish sauce. I remembered that it was incredible, and today's reality did not fail to meet my memory's expectations. My mom dubbed it her favorite Vietnamese dish. We concluded the meal with coconut water and pomelos.

Lastly, my mom convinced Trang's dad to serenade us. He started singing Cuando, Cuando, Cuando, and gradually everyone joined in, even if it was just for the chorus. Then, altogether too early, it was time to go. But I was thankful: thankful for my mom, thankful for the family I was welcomed into, thankful for the company and friendship of my fellow English teachers, thankful for a memorable thanksgiving, thankful for this slice of life that I have been blessed with. Our goodbye was received with a request to come back soon, and that's a request I will be only too happy to fulfill.

The whole group and a great house

We spent the afternoon resting off our big lunch, which, by the way, started around 9am. Later, Trang came by to say goodbye, since she'll be at a conference until after Mom leaves. In the evening, Mom and I paid a visit to Anh Thư, aka Pajama Mamma. She is a spoonful of sugar in my Vietnam experience thus far, and someone for whom I am also very thankful. We had a nice, long, surprisingly fluid chat; and Mom ended up with some new pajamas. Then, we tried to go to bed early before our weekend trip to Hanoi.

But not without meeting a (relatively small) visitor first.

Mom + Vietnam: Ben Tre 1

Monday
When we got to campus we were in for a surprise. I asked if I could have the key to the guest house so my mom could put her things away.

- Please tell your mother to come here.
- Can we have the key first so she can put her things away.
- Please ask your mother to come here. I would like to invite her for a beverage.
- Can we have the key first? That way she doesn't have to lug her suitcase all over.
- Does her suitcase have wheels?
- Yes.
- Please ask your mother to come here.

Clearly, this conversation was going nowhere. Eventually I found out that there had been a change of plans. The (ever-enigmatic and general) 'authorities' had decreed that the guest house was not suitable for for my mother, a most important and honorable guest. The school would be putting her in a hotel, and this was not up for negotiation. I've gotten pretty good at rolling with the punches here, but this was more than frustrating. I had no choice and no say.

After a lovely lunch with Trang and other people from the college, it was time for my mom to meet the Rector. First, though, we were greeted by a welcoming committee of one:

It was the first time I have seen a snake here. We were on the second floor, and I wondered whether it had gone up the stairs or come down from the third floor. When we left campus to go the the hotel, someone was carrying another, bigger snake that had already been killed. I think my mom was slightly relieved to not be staying in what had suddenly become snake-central.

So now I'm staying at a hotel with my mom, feeling a little like a tourist in my own home. It's not as horribly inconvenient as I originally thought, but it's at least a 20 minute walk from campus, which isn't the most convenient when you have our kind of weather.

Tuesday
We were invited to attend the closing ceremony of a collaborative project with the Vam Ho Bird Ground. You may or may not recall, this is the project that generates most of my translation headaches. So, I was kind of excited to see the site that until now had remained vague and abstract. We set out bright and early and two hours later we had arrived. And then we were told that we were too late to see the grounds, that there would be no birds. We sat through speeches and more speeches. Those of us who did not speak received folders containing translations of some of the speeches. For one brief shining moment I thought I would finally see evidence of the value of my work, especially since I translated about 10 speeches. But alas, the speeches I translated were not present, and the translations that were present had clearly not been proofed. One of the speeches was made by a Singaporean environmentalist who lampooned littering (and eating meat) and congratulated the project for its conservation efforts, and ironically handed out goodies in plastic bags.

Lunch was the usual feast, and after that we managed to convince the powers that be to let us visit the bird grounds, even if there would be no birds. We drove a short ways, pulled over on an unremarkable stretch of the road, and plunged into the undergrowth.

One of a few pictures that isn't just a mass of green

Intrepid explorers, those who were undaunted by high heels or mosquitoes

Wednesday
Today was The Day: the day of my mom's presentation, the day I teach all afternoon, the day English club fills my night. Mom's long-prepared presentation went well, and was, naturally, followed by a big celebratory lunch.

Presenter, translator, and the attendees that stayed until the end

In the afternoon I taught and while doing so was filmed by a local TV crew. I have no idea why they chose today in particular. My students got the opportunity to chat with/ask my mom whatever they wanted, and the questions ended up being more or less the same ones they asked me when I first arrived. As they talked to her I felt like the parent of many toddlers. Parents can understand their children's gobbledygook perfectly, while to outsiders it is just that: gobbledygook. My mom could understand them most of the time, but there were times when she completely misinterpreted what to me was quite clear.

I admit it: altogether too often, I wish I had a personal
photographer who could photograph me being teacherly.
Today, I had one. Thanks, Mom.

Me, Ms. Thu, and the K8 (3rd year) English students

For dinner I took my mom for our first walk down 'my street' (we have been shuttled around by motorcycle, taxi, and campus car) and we bought delicious fried goodness.

English club tonight was a shocking success. Part of the grand plan has been that different teachers would collaborate with me to prepare club meetings, or at least attend, so that they can observe my teaching methods and the kinds of fun learning activities that I use. However, most of the time that doesn't happen at all. This week, much to my surprise, my collaborator prepared a reading and a set of discussion questions for today. Ms. Trang had asked me to do this on my own in the past, but I had been skeptical of students' abilities to do something like this, given that some of them stare at me blankly when I ask a question like 'what will you do this weekend?' In attendance tonight were also some high school students who are tutored by the teacher who helped organize tonight. He had prepared what I thought to be a fairly complex text about happiness, and several not-simply-worded discussion questions. To my continued surprise, the students seemed to have very little trouble with something that I would have considered to be over many of their heads. I've gotten used to having to pry everything out of most of my students, who tend to give the simplest answer possible, but to my continued continued surprise, the answers students provided were remarkably thorough and well-reasoned. Tonight's success has motivated me to prepare similarly for future club meetings. I think it will be more fruitful for the students, and hopefully just as fun as things we have done in the past. Moreover, it was a good reminder of something that I make an effort to stay conscious of (though I don't always succeed): to not judge people's intellect by their articulateness in their non-native language.

"How beautiful you are!"

Few things make you want to say "only in Vietnam" more than having a late night of karaoke rehearsal. Tonight was the big show, an interdepartmental karaoke contest, and Morena and I were to be the English department's secret weapon. Our weaponhood relied partly on our satisfactorily learning a Vietnamese song, and largely on exploiting our status as campus celebrities (or maybe just novelties). Rehearsal started about two weeks ago, but later it turned out that the song we had chosen was not on the disc that would be used during the competition. So we had to start all over again. Last night we sang again and again, mixing in a few dance moves. Today it was the moment of truth. Lest you underestimate the scale of this event, let me tell you that it started at 630, and by the time all thirteen participating departments were done singing their four songs, it was almost five hours later.

Note the disco ball. It was definitely made use of tonight.

We sang Anh Em Ta Về, a song about people coming together. Click on the link to read the lyrics; don't bother with a Google translation; it's pretty abysmal.Without further ado, I now present my moment in the limelight:

Like I've said, life in Vietnam makes me feel like a superstar almost every day. Just walking in to the auditorium, I was garnering gasps and waves from all of my students (and comments of "How beautiful you are!"). Morena was a little self-conscious, but I guess I don't mind being a spectacle. At least not when that's the whole point, anyway. Even better was having my solo drowned out by a round of cheers, and being bum-rushed with glittery flowers during the musical interlude. The icing on the cake was scoring 93, a more than respectable score. I later found out that our combined machine- and human-judge score was 90.75, not bad at all.

Afterward, Morena and I were reflecting that neither of us would probably ever have done something like this in our home countries. But before I came to Vietnam I planned to check my pride and dignity at the door, and it has let me step out of my comfort zone in the most rewarding of ways.

After our performance, we went out for a quick dinner. On the way, Ms. Trang told me that she realized today that her confidence and fluency in English have significantly increased in the last few months. Today, while teaching, she had to explain a literary example of a metaphor, and she was able to do so smoothly and without hesitation. She credited this development to our extensive conversations. It really meant a lot to me because lately I have been questioning my impact. I know I am appreciated here, but it is so hard to know whether I am really making a difference. Some of my third year students are training to be secondary school English teachers, and a few weeks ago they started student-teaching. Ms. Trang told me that students that she tutors, who are students at the secondary school and consequently students of my students, were praising their teachers (my students) for their English skills. They say that they speak English more beautifully, clearly, and fluently than past student-teachers. Ms. Trang says she is curious to hear from the actual teachers at the secondary school, because in the past they have always only complained about the English level of the student-teachers. The last cherry on my praise sundae is that my students who are student-teachers have been coming to me for advice. Not only do they ask me for help pronouncing the material they will teach; they ask me for suggestions for warm up activities. This means that they think my teaching style is effective and worth emulating. And all of this makes me feel validated.

From the Khmer Festival in Tra Vinh

Adopt a foreigner

A month-old newspaper I received today. Headline: A "special" teacher in Ben Tre

It would seem that Morena and I have been to some places enough times or enough times in a row that we have come to be seen as regulars, or dare I say favorite customers. Maybe just pet foreigners. We went to a rice place for lunch today, and when we paid the owner brought out a bag of mysterious black globs and a bowl of white gloop. She urged us to have some. We each took a piece and tried it. Despite the unpromising visuals, it wasn't bad. We said our thanks and turned to leave, but she urged us to have more and motioned towards a table and chairs. Clearly, we were expected to sit and eat all of this. We wondered whether we would be asked to pay for this generous gesture when we were finished. The globs were some kind of dough, and the gloop was coconut-based. The latter bordered on the coconut taste that I don't like, but the former was quite enjoyable, even on its own. It kind of just tasted like raw pasta dough. In the end, we didn't have to pay for it, which made the dessert even sweeter.

Lunch. Really good meat.

Globs and gloop

Morena wanted to capture the moment of truth.

After our unexpected dessert we were already feeling a little full, but we had already deecided to go get a smoothie at our favorite place after lunch. So, we soldiered on. Luckily, strawberry is not in season so I got to repeat the jackfruit smoothie, which is what I really wanted anyway. This particular area of chairs and awnings is served by both the smoothie woman and a woman who serves rice, etc. We have only ever gotten smoothies here, but for some reason the rice lady decided to shower us with love and affection today. As soon as we walked in and sat down she pulled up a chair to join us. She chatted away happily, and most of my replies consisted of apologetic laughter and repeating the phrase "I don't know." For some ironic reason, no one seems to understand me whenever I say "I don't understand." However, her stream of Vietnamese was unwavering, and to my surprise I discovered that perhaps I did understand after all. I will never know whether I actually answered her questions or just gave answers to questions I mistakenly thought she was asking, but our two halves of conversation seemed to mesh, at least at some moments. Morena and I complimented her pajama set, and she asked us if we had our own. I told her that I had a set but that Morena did not (or that's what I meant to say, anyway). The next thing we knew she was insisting that she would take us to buy some pajamas. But first, she disappeared briefly, returning with some fruit in hand. More treats for the pet foreigners! It seemed like a fluke that this would happen twice in one day, especially since it has never happened to me before. The thing was, this treat was not such a treat. It was breadfruit, and it was not delicious. The texture is really thick and mushy, and the flavor is just... not good. In my time in Vietnam I have eaten larvae, congealed blood, fish heads, pig's feet, pig's ears, the list goes on; but breadfruit is the only thing that has ever triggered my gag reflex. Luckily, this happened after several morsels, and she was no longer observing us as closely to check for delighted appreciation. Now here's the truth. The woman's gesture was sweet. We did not want to offend her. But there was absolutely no way we were going to be able to eat all of the breadfruit she had so generously given us, even if we washed it down with smoothie or swallowed it without breathing. So, between hesitant bites, we snuck pieces into our purses and pockets. Everyone was happy.

We're supposed to go pajama shopping together tomorrow.

Breadfruit. Beware.

In the afternoon Morena and I had our first session with the Communication Corner, something new on our schedule this month. We had no idea what it was going to be. We had only been told that we didn't need to prepare anything, and that we just had to attend and act as a resource in case students had questions for us. For the first 20 minutes or so, only Vietnamese was spoken. Then, it was our turn to talk about "love or friendship," a very broad topic. Given that no one seemed capable of speaking or understanding English, it all seemed rather pointless. However, it gradually became apparent that the students actually could say and understand at least a few things, and they started asking me questions in English. The second half was much better than the first. As is inevitable when joining a new group, we were asked to sing. Because Morena didn't know any English songs, we sang Frère Jaques in French. Then, one of the students responded with a rendition of M2M's "The Day You Went Away," one of the many random American songs that are for some reason (karaoke) favorites in Vietnam.

Time for another confession. Though I always make sure to have a fleshed out and detailed lesson plan for my classes with students, I almost never do the same for my classes with teachers. Sometimes this works really well, because it allows me to steer by their interests or questions, but sometimes I am freewheeling my way through class. The theme of tonight's lesson was family, and I was really happy with how it turned out. I had a few activities in mind, but I responded to confusions I observed and was able to come up with more activities that I felt did a good job of clarifying new vocabulary and structures. I'm not big on teaching rules; I don't necessarily know them myself, and I think that focusing on remembering rules can interfere with fluent speaking. Still, students need to know when (and sometimes why) we say things a certain way.

Building on what they already knew to explain oldest, youngest, etc.
Tossed twins in for good measure.

Look what I found in the textbook

Morena finally got to move into her room today. This means no more 7am drilling for me and a new next-door neighbor with whom I can chat from the bathroom. Speaking of 7am, I have a 730 breakfast date with my students again tomorrow morning.